Page 25 of The Deeper Game
We slid in the back patio door and went from room to room, always with our backs to a wall and guns out, ensuring each was empty.
By the time we’d cleared the farthest bedroom, we heard a crash up front.
I stiffened.
Another crash. Like something breaking.
Thor and I exchanged glances.
“Should we sneak out the back way?” I asked.
He frowned. “Nope—we investigate. Steady and smart. You take low, I’ll take high.”
This meant that we’d appear in a doorway when he gave the signal, me crouched, him standing.
We crept into the side hall. My pulse raced as another crash sounded. Somebody was trashing the place! I caught Thor’s blue gaze. His jaw was set, and he held the gun pointed upward in front of his face. He wasn’t an agent by training like Odin and Zeus, but a life of vicious takeover robberies tends to give a guy skills, let’s just say.
We reached the entrance and he nodded. We spun in. I crouched and pointed just in time to see Odin, arms crossed, watching Zeus hurl a vase at the fireplace. It exploded into a shower of shards.
“Christ!” Thor stood.
“We’re home, honey,” Odin said.
Zeus spun around, green eyes shining as though he were possessed. He still had his blue HVAC contractor jumpsuit on, but even a bulky one-piece couldn’t hide the angry flex of his muscles. “Somebody has the gall to fucking threaten her? Some motherfuckerthreatensher?”
“Oh, they’ll wish they hadn’t soon enough,” Thor said. “Any location on Bolo?” he asked, wincing as Zeus drove a fist through the wall.
Odin looked on grimly. “No location on Bolo. Yet.”
Thor grunted and holstered his Sig and I slipped my gun back in my purse, feeling a little freaked out about Zeus, who pulled his fist from the wall and punched again. Why weren’t they stopping him?
Suddenly he swung his gaze to me. “Baby!” Zeus stomped over to me and wrapped me in his strong arms. He smelled like sawdust, motor oil, and man, I hugged him back, pressed against his massive chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he rasped, kissing my hair. “I didn’t mean it.” He pressed gentle hands onto my cheeks and looked into my eyes. “You okay?”
“Of course.”
“God damn.” He kissed me, and suddenly it was like a kiss with his whole body, meaty hands roaming and holding me everywhere, as though he had to touch every inch of me to ensure I was okay. He moved to planting feverish kisses on my cheek and neck.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, enjoying his warm hands and lips on my skin. “We’re okay.”
“This guy goes down,” he growled, pushing me up against a wall, kissing me, mauling me. It was unspeakably hot to be taken over by him in this state.
“I know,” I said.
He forced my lips open in a bruising kiss, invading my mouth with his tongue, his heat, his lips, grinding the back of my head against the wall.
“I know you will,” I said again, holding onto his rock-solid waist. Part of me was scared by his brutish protectiveness.
And part of me wanted him to take me wild.
With a groan, he lowered himself slightly and pressed the outline of his rock-solid shaft between my legs, thick and hard as a fist. My belly tightened as he bore upwards, pressing himself into my sex, humping relentlessly.
“I have to…” He panted between kisses, seeming to forget what he was going to say.
“Yes,” I whispered, clinging onto him, riding him as the electricity between my legs mounted. “Everything, baby—bring everything.”
“I need to…” he moaned, practically fucking me right through my skirt. “If you like these clothes…”
“Do it,” I whispered.
